Godspeed

It's bad news about Shelldon.

 

He made a strong and seemingly full resurgence yesterday only to meet his maker last night when I wasn't looking. 

And believe me, I was looking lots.

After panic purchasing new bedding, drapes, and furniture for him from Petco yesterday I had full faith (of a moron) he could pull through his ordeal the night before.

But after rinsing him off and reluctantly putting him back in the new digs, he seemed paralyzed with indecision. It was like watching my brother Eric pick out new shoes.  Shelldon was definitely shopping for a new shell but wasn't willing to drop his money without considering every angle.  Twice.  Worse yet, every time I checked on him, he had a little piece of something (bark, sand pile) stuck to his midriff which either caused him to back out and abandon ship or caused me to grab my tweezers and remove it from him like an invisible surgeon in the dark.   

(By the way, I did know better than to set his bare bottom in Cypress mulch but the sand was absolutely killing him. He seemed in no way willing or able to rinse himself off so I figured avoiding bark pieces might be his only hope. I figured wrong.)

So it is finished.  He is gone. For real, for real this time.  I'll spare you details but let's just say we wouldn't want him to return in that state if he could.

The kids said their goodbyes over a brief  and anything but solemn toilet flushing ceremony. Grayson was on one side harking, "FLUSH HIM! FLUSH HIM" like an angry Roman as Abby banged little crazy fists on the toilet lid in Keith Moon fashion.  I'm pretty sure they cycled through their grief already.

We wished Shelldon Godspeed just like we did yesterday.

Maybe that's what did it.